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“Shouldn’t you excel in a subject before you teach it?”
Rather than erupt, as anticipated, she canted her head, pensive. Then she shrugged. “You’re right. Guess you’re doomed to live the rest of your endless life in as is condition. Poor thing. My apologies.” When she patted his cheek and sighed mournfully, there was no stopping his show of amusement.
He snorted. Then he did the unthinkable. He smiled. With amusement.
Gasps of shock reverberated. Recalling their audience, he scowled.
The concubines were gaping at him, as if he’d sprouted a second head. So Rathbone had never argued with them. So he usually arrived on edge, took the first handful of women to reach him, and flashed off as soon as he finished. So what.
He snaked an arm around Neeka’s waist and teleported her to his private beach. His thinking spot, where salt and majestic orclilies fragranced a warm breeze. The pink sands, blue coral, and purple waters always provided a slap of reality. Things could be worse.
“Find the next bone,” he commanded, releasing the oracle. “My patience is running out.”
“Ten-four.” She saluted him before turning, tearing off her shoes and socks, then stepping into the lapping ocean waves. “Just gonna get my relax on to help speed the process along.”
The sun adored her, deepening the rich hues of her skin.
He stood in place, the mátia riveted as she kicked the water, dancing in the sand, and skipped rocks. She moved with abandon, somehow both graceful and awkward, uncaring about the opinion of observers. She simply did what she pleased, when she pleased.
Must be nice. What Rathbone wouldn’t give to not worry about his dead wife or vengeance. To just be.
Eventually, Neeka tired and rejoined him. “What if I need twenty-four hours of patience?” she asked. “Will you agree or go Neanderthal?”
Having a deadline mollified him. “I’ll grant your request. But those hours will cost you.”
Amber irises glittered with a combination of dread and playfulness. “What is it you seek?”
“The unspecified boon I owe becomes null and void.”
“What!” She stomped her foot. “But that’s my favorite part of the fee. Pick something else. Your price is too high.”
“Pay the higher price or prove you place no value on your request.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How much is your life worth to you, Neeka the Unwanted?”
“Oh!” Scowling, she scooped water and threw the droplets at his chest. “That is the most logical thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m furious with you. Furious!”
“Do you agree to my terms?”
“Considering I’m irreplaceable to me, yes. I’ll pay. Twenty-four hours for me, no unspecified boon for you. With the caveat that I obtain two unspecified boons if I find the same number of bones during this twenty-four-hour period.” Smirking at him, as if she’d discovered some sort of loophole, she added, “How much do you value your Lore, King Reddy Locks?”
That smirk looked good on her. Good enough to eat. His gaze dipped, sliding over her entire body. In fact, there were lots of places to dine. “Using my own question against me. A bold move I admire. You deserve a reward, so... You’ve got a deal.”
She beamed at him, soaking up the praise, and his chest squeezed. How did she draw such stalwart reactions from him?
What would it be like to kiss her? A woman who longed for her one and only. Who would demand he forsake all others on her behalf.
No reason to start his monogamy test run until later. “Since you forced me to close my stable, you should—”
“Uh-oh,” she interjected with a moan. “Looks like your dream is about to come true. Incoming vision...” Her eyelids slid shut, and she rubbed her temple.
A vision about Lore? Heart leaping, Rathbone gripped the oracle’s shoulders. “Tell me!”
“I see...” Her frown deepened. “You, sitting at a long, formal dining table. Demons fill the other chairs. They hold forks and knives, and chortle with glee. A pretty blonde is chained to a wall. She’s sobbing quietly. There’s a warlock strapped to the table. You cut him open. While he screams, you serve his organs to your guests.”
Neeka saw into the past too? A surprise. Most oracles swung one way or the other, not both.
Rathbone wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Already she considered him less “cool.” How much had her opinion lowered with this vision?
He waited for her to refocus before he explained. “The blonde was a member of the stable. She and the warlock attempted to kill me, and their treachery did not go unpunished. I killed her as soon as the party disbanded.” He’d meant what he’d told the oracle their first day together. If you didn’t work with him, you worked against him and paid the price.
